


Blind to Their Faults

by floofboy



Category: Senyuu. (Anime & Manga)
Genre: 0verse, Devotion, Elf's Timeline, Falling In Love, Fluff, Great Mage Alba, Hero Sion, Implied Reincarnation, Love Confessions, M/M, Minor Angst, Physical Abuse, Reincarnation, Workaholic Alba Frühling, but no worse than canon as always
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-13
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2021-01-29 23:00:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21418081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floofboy/pseuds/floofboy
Summary: Four years ago, Ros confessed to Alba. Because as unfortunate as it was, he had fallen for a workaholic royal researcher who wouldn't understand the meaning of a vacation if it slapped him in the face.Four years ago, Alba rejected him. Because Alba was a workaholic royal researcher, and apparently he'd prefer to be forever alone than risk a lover affecting his work.Well, Ros isn't about to give up just because ofthat.(He wasn't about to lose against magic, not after all it’s done.)
Relationships: Alba Frühling/Ross | Creasion
Comments: 28
Kudos: 88





	Blind to Their Faults

**Author's Note:**

> haruhara: alba and ros never meet in elf's timeline  
me: ha.  
me: you think that'll stop me?

Ros, quite honestly, has long since gotten bored of his job. 

He’s been around since her Majesty the Queen wasn’t the Queen, was just “Hime-chan”- which is well over a decade back now. Being a royal soldier serving a country that hasn’t seen strife in a millennium isn’t the most exciting of positions. 

But in his mid-thirties, he’s far from the most senior of his peers, and still far too young for anyone to listen to his complaints with anything other than a raised eyebrow. 

“Why don’t you just quit?” they’d say, and as much as it’d piss Ros off, they’d have a point. 

Why not just quit? He’s worked his way up into an elite soldier position, and it pays a fair sum - he’s built up enough of a nest egg to live comfortably for a couple years, and that’s without even considering his inheritance as one of Hero Sion’s so-called direct descendants. 

Ros might not see much action working as a castle soldier, but he hasn’t let his skills wane - he beats up monsters on his offtime, he could easily find work as a bounty hunter or adventurer if he set out. 

If he set out. 

And that was the problem, wasn’t it? Any job more interesting than his current would require travelling. Any job he could take up in town would be as dull as rocks, while he’d tentatively describe his current position as dull as grass. 

(At least grass grows.)

Ros imagines that if he ever took the time to explain all this to anyone, they’d still just raise an eyebrow again and ask- “Why not travel?”

But they just wouldn’t understand. Because no matter how dull his job, no matter how boring standing guard for hours on end might be-

No job he took would be worth it if it took him away from the castle. 

(No job would be worth if it took him away from Alba.)

* * *

Ros hadn’t meant to fall so hard. 

He hadn’t meant to fall at all, unless it was to body slam Alba onto the ground, in which case he had always been completely on board with that. 

But to his great disappointment, his heart had decided it wanted the idiotic researcher who had no concept of a work-life balance, and refused to settle for anyone else. 

His heart was an idiot. 

(He might be one too.)

Really, his heart should’ve realized it should go for literally _anybody _else sometime within the last decade. Should’ve realized the moment he confessed and Alba just smiled awkwardly at him, should’ve realized the moment he knew that Alba would always choose his life’s goals over anything - anybody - else. 

Sadly, his heart remains stubborn, and sadder still, he refuses to cut it off.

* * *

It was ages ago that they met for the first time. 

The scene. Ros, a low-rung guard at the start of his career and already as bored as he is today - Alba, a fresh-faced graduate student on his first day at a research position. 

“Mr. Soldier!” calls out Alba, half-panting and a harried look on his face. “Sorry to bother- do you know where Professor Oz Baum’s lab is?”

Ros blinks down at Alba - a stranger, then - before smiling. 

“It’s in the west wing,” he tells Alba, “Keep on going left, then climb up the stairs to the very top of the western-most tower. It’ll be one of the rooms there.”

“Thank you!” Alba exclaims, voice filled with relief, and Ros might’ve felt guilty if he were that kind of person. Luckily, he isn’t, so he just waves off Alba with a bright smile as the other boy hurries away, lab coat scraping against the ground. 

(Professor Oz Baum’s lab was, naturally, in the east wing.)

Alba comes back, around ten minutes later, looking even more harried and panting heavily. 

Ros plants his best look of innocence on his face, adjusting his red scarf nonchalantly as Alba speaks. 

“It-“ Alba pants. “It wasn’t there.”

“Oh? That’s odd,” Ros says, letting surprise leak into his voice. “Are you sure you checked every room?”

“Yes!” snaps Alba. 

Pity. The other boy seemed to be more meticulous than Ros expected. 

Ros improvises. 

“Did you go up on the roof?” asks Ros. 

Alba stares incredulously. “...no?”

“Well, there’s your problem,” Ros says primly. “Professor Oz Baum needs natural lighting for his work, so he has his lab in the open air.”

“Aren’t the roofs of the castle sheer slopes?!” sputters Alba. “I didn’t see a staircase leading up to it!”

“It’s truly a wonder of science, how Professor Oz Baum has set up his laboratory,” gushes Ros, “You’re right that there’s no staircase, but you should be able to find a ladder right outside one of the windows on the topmost floor.”

The other boy is silent for a moment. 

“...I don’t believe you,” Alba says flatly, then turns around, making to head away. 

Mustering up his best tone of offence, Ros snaps, “I’ll have you know I’ve patrolled past Professor Oz Baum’s lab plenty of times!” True. “I know exactly where it is!” Also true. 

Alba glances back, looking hesitant. 

One more push. 

“You know, guards aren’t supposed to talk during our shifts,” Ros laments, spreading a hand over his heart. “But here I am, risking reprimandation just to give you directions, and you won’t even believe me.” He shakes his head sadly. “Just goes to show you shouldn’t do good things for people, huh?”

“It’s true that no one else would talk to me…” mumbles Alba. 

Ros carefully holds back a grin. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Soldier,” says Alba finally, then turns towards the western corridor. “I’ll head there now, thank you!”

“See you,” Ros says brightly, waving as the other boy speeds his way away. 

Then he waits. 

He doesn’t have to wait long - he supposes a servant must’ve taken pity on the boy. 

“You _were _lying!” snaps Alba as he rushes past Ros into the eastern corridor. 

Ros just laughs and waves him another goodbye.

* * *

He forgets about the gullible researcher boy pretty quickly. It was a fun spot of amusement, but the monotony of the day quickly overtakes everything else. 

Then the very next day, they meet again in the castle canteen, and Ros remembers. 

“You!” sputters the boy, pointing an accusatory finger at Ros, lunch tray balanced precariously on his other arm. “You’re that soldier that gave me the wrong directions.” 

Ros looks up from his table to give the other boy a blank look. “Sorry, who were you again?”

“Alba! Alba Frühling!” Alba slams his tray down on the table in front of Ros, and Ros just blinks in confusion. “You sent me running up and down the western tower _twice_.”

“Oh, right,” Ros says, smile playing at his lips. “That was fun.”

Alba growls. “You’re the _worst._”

“That’s rude of you,” Ros says mildly. 

“No ruder than you!” Alba shoots back, and Ros just shrugs, because well, he wasn’t going to deny it. 

Then Alba sits down in front of him, chair shoved back with a clatter, and Ros stares in more confusion. The canteen wasn’t empty by any means, it was bustling a fair bit, but there were still plenty of partially filled tables. There was no reason for the other boy to go out of his way to sit in front of Ros, of all people. 

He says as much, and Alba turns beet red. 

(It’s kinda fun. He could get used to this.)

Alba mumbles something under his breath in response. 

“Mm?” Ros hums, leaning in over the table. “What was that?”

“I _said,_” snaps Alba, still bright red, “I don’t want to ask anyone else if I can sit with them. You owe me one, just let me sit here while I eat!”

Ros snorts - loudly. 

“Someone turned you down, didn’t they?” A smirk spreads across his face. “Let me guess- you worked up all your _pitiful_ courage to ask strangers if you could sit at their table, and they immediately said no.”

Alba just scowls silently. Hit the nail on the head, hm?

“Well, I don’t mind.” Ros waves a hand dismissively. “Where’s your coworkers though?” He eyes Alba’s lab coat with a pointed look. “You _are _a researcher, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, but… Professor Oz Baum always brings his own lunch, apparently,” mutters Alba, “Researcher Toryuu…” He glances down at his tray, looking dejected. “...doesn’t like me.”

From the rumours he’s heard, Researcher Toryuu doesn’t like _anyone _\- but Ros has no obligation to tell Alba that, not when the look of misery on the other boy’s face is so lovely. 

(It makes Ros want to push a little more, see an even worse expression.)

So Ros smiles, and there’s not a smidgen of kindness to it. 

“Well, don’t worry,” says Ros, as cheerfully as he can, “I’m sure if you do your job well, your coworkers will warm up to you.”

Alba brightens at that. “You think?”

“Why wouldn’t they?” Ros says, then widens his smile. “Though of course - you _are _aware of the primary duty of a junior researcher, yes?”

“Primary duty?” Alba asks warily. 

“Bring an errand boy,” drawls Ros. “Fetching research supplies and notes and messages from every corner of the castle and in town.” There’s a cruel edge to his smile now. “It’s very important to know how to get to where you need to quickly.”

And ah, there was the look of despair he was going for.

* * *

Back then, as a general rule, Ros didn’t really have friends. 

He was polite to the maids and butlers, vaguely polite to other soldiers, and slightly polite to his superiors - he didn’t quite want to get fired, and he knew how to hold himself back when he needed to. People tended to give him some leeway, as one of the lauded “descendants”, but he…

(He knew he wasn’t Hero Sion’s descendant.)

So he tried to get his amusement out of visitors or newcomers like Alba, who were easy to mess with and usually didn’t last long.

(And Ros has never liked researchers, so messing with Alba was killing two birds with one stone in his book.)

Half the employees at the castle did nothing above the bare minimum of work… while they might care if Ros was messing with his fellow soldiers or with other servants, they’d be more likely to laugh than do anything about Ros giving the wrong directions to a new researcher. 

But he didn’t have friends. Because while he was capable of being polite to strangers or acquaintances when necessary, whenever he really got close to anyone, when he started caring for them - his sadistic tendencies flared up. 

(And then they’d run away in fear or disgust or both, and never look back.)

The closest he’s had to friends was when he was young, not too long after he was dragged out of the orphanage by the King. And well, the King had made sure those friendships were cut off well and good, even if that hadn’t been his intention. 

A normal person would probably try to change. Would try to disengage the logic in their mind that tells them, _if you care for someone, punch them in the stomach. _

Ros isn’t a normal person, and he can’t help the voice in the back of his mind that whispers that there _were _people who accepted him, violence and all. That he didn’t need to change. 

(Can’t help the part of him that looks around sometimes for a head of fluffy brown hair, when he’s never known anyone like that. 

He doesn’t think about the implications.)

Messing with Alba isn’t out of affection, not at first. But regardless, Ros figures that soon enough, the young researcher will act like everyone else and refuse to even talk to him. So he decides to get whatever amusement out of Alba while he still can, then move on to look for a new toy. 

Except Alba doesn’t act like everyone else. 

“Ah, you should go to the left if you want to get to the gardens!” Ros says brightly, one morning in a sunny hallway. He’s giving Alba the correct directions for once, because-

“-I’m not falling for that!” Alba snaps back, and goes to the right. 

It’s some minutes before Alba comes hurtling back the way he came, shooting Ros a glare as he runs past. 

The sight of Alba’s harried back is getting more and more familiar.

(And as it does, Ros feels he’s starting to hate the sight of lab coats just a little less.)

Yet the next time they meet at lunch, Alba still sits in front of him. Grouches for a little while, but still sits in front of him, still talks to him. 

Ros doesn’t understand. 

So he ups the ante. Gives into his steadily growing desires to punch Alba in the stomach, trip him whenever he sees him in the halls. Sneaks poison mushrooms into Alba’s food when he looks away for a moment, pours itching powder down his back if he stands too near. 

Alba starts to eye him warily when he’s close by, hides his food and carefully watches his step, but-

He still doesn’t run away, and really, there’s only one conclusion Ros can come to. 

“Researcher,” Ros says slowly, one day in the canteen, near the end of their lunch break- “Are you a masochist?”

Alba visibly chokes on air, and it’s a little amusing to watch. “No!” 

“Come now,” says Ros, flapping a hand with a laugh. “There’s no point in denying it. It’s obvious.”

“No, it’s not?!”

“Ah!” Ros’ eyes widen. “Don’t tell me - you don’t know what a masochist is? You see, a masochist is someone who gets off to pai-“

“-I know what it is!” Alba cuts in, cheeks flushing red. He slams his hands down on the table, empty dishes clattering on their trays. “And I’m telling you I’m not one!”

“Researcher… it’s alright, I accept you for who you are.” Ros smiles at the other boy - gently for once - but Alba, to his amusement, just sputters. 

“Where did this come from anyways?” grumbles Alba, “What makes you think I’m a masochist?” 

“The fact that you enjoy being punched by me?” Ros raises an eyebrow. 

“I don’t!” Alba objects, sounding remarkably frustrated. “I wish you’d stop!”

And at that, Ros can’t help his gaze from falling to the ground, the words in his throat dying before they come out. 

(He doesn’t understand.)

“...Soldier?”

“Then why are you still here?” Ros demands, jerking his gaze back up. 

Alba’s eyes are wide, blinking in confusion. “What?”

“If you don’t like it, why not leave?” Ros demands again. 

“Wha- I…” Now it’s Alba’s turn to look towards the ground, and in a barely audible voice, he mumbles, “I mean, you’re my first friend…”

“_Huh?_” Ros says coolly.

Alba flushes once more, but even through his obvious embarrassment, he looks back up, meets Ros’ eyes with a nervous gaze. 

“That is… I mean…” Alba stammers out. “I thought we were friends? And besides, um…” His hands fidget. “I don’t _like _you messing with me all the time, but it’s because you did that I learned my way around the castle so quickly, I mean, ah…” He visibly swallows. “I got lost so many times, so I got to know new places in the castle really quickly, yeah?”

Ros just stares back with a blank expression, not sure how to react. 

Meanwhile, Alba’s nervousness seems to be rising higher and higher, but to his credit, the other boy continues regardless. 

“And, um, I know that you probably weren’t doing it to help me,” Alba admits, “Especially not the poisoning and stuff - _why would you do that, _honestly! But even stuff like that… it kinda helped me deal with Researcher Toryuu. His bad moods didn’t really seem bad at all compared to what you liked to do, even though you… seemed to like me? So I figured out that Researcher Toryuu didn’t really hate me at all, not really.”

...Ros is mainly just amazed that Alba got that much use out of the stuff Ros did for his own amusement. 

“Most of all, though…” Alba trails off into a mumble again. “No one’s ever looked so happy being around me before. And it, uh…” He swallows again. “M-made me really happy too.”

Alba falls silent, and all that’s left is the muffled background noise of the canteen around them. 

To his horror, Ros feels his face getting warm. He’s sure it must be because of the heat-

(Nevermind that it’s almost winter and it’s freezing in the large canteen.)

-but just in case, he shoves his scarf up to cover his face up to his eyes, then stands up. 

Alba stares up at him in confusion. 

“I’m your first friend? That’s pathetic, Researcher, how old are you?” Ros sneers, voice a little muffled through the fabric. 

(No… that’s not what he wants to say.)

The other boy shrinks into himself, looking to be on the verge of tears, and the sight makes something twinge strangely in his chest. 

(It isn’t a feeling of pleasure.)

“I can’t believe that I ended up _helping _you when I just wanted to see you in despair.” Ros lets out a deep and gusty sigh. “I suppose I’ll have to think of new material from now on.”

Hope starts to light in Alba’s eyes, and the other boy perks up, just a little. 

“...Maybe we should go somewhere after work sometime.” Ros distracts himself by adjusting his scarf. “Maybe a judo class! So I can beat yo- I mean, so you can learn some self-defense.”

Ros expects a snarky retort at his “slip”, but instead- Alba aims a bright, beaming smile at him. 

He swallows thickly- his face still feels all too warm.

“Yeah, let’s!” Alba says cheerily, and Ros may or may not have stared dumbly at the smile for a few beats too long. 

(Ros isn’t sure when exactly he started loving Alba. 

But that moment in the canteen, when Alba, stammering and nervous as he was, said he was happy being friends with Ros despite everything he did-

If nothing else, it was definitely the start of his crush.)

* * *

“Good morning, Researcher!” Ros says brightly, jabbing a hand into Alba’s back as a greeting. 

Alba yelps, jolts, then stops midway in the hallway to aim a glare back at Ros. 

“Hello, Soldier,” grumbles Alba. 

Caring little for the grouchy look on Alba’s face, Ros steps beside Alba and slips a hand around him, caressing his hip lightly. 

Alba doesn’t lean into the touch, but he accepts it without complaint. 

(He’ll take it as a win.)

“You’re here early today!” Ros says, still brightly. 

“I’m always here at this time lately,” says Alba, rolling his eyes. He starts walking, and so Ros carefully matches his steps, keeping his arm wrapped comfortably around the other man’s waist. “It’s tomorrow that I’ll _really_ have to be here early.”

“Oh?” 

“I want to use the light at sunrise as a catalyst for an experiment,” says Alba, sounding distracted. “Hopefully I’ll finally be able to trigger a consistent reaction…”

Ros hums neutrally. “Well, good luck with that.”

Alba immediately shoots another glare up at Ros. “You don’t think I’ll succeed, do you? This is why people who don’t believe in magic…”

“As I’ve said time and time again, I do believe in magic, Researcher,” Ros says, a touch exasperated - then snickers. “I just question whether you’ll be the one to rediscover it…”

“I will! This time for sure!” Alba snaps hotly. 

“Sure, sure.” Ros drawls. A smirk spreads across his face. “You’ve been saying that for almost a decade now, you realize.”

Cheeks pinking a little, Alba pouts. 

(It makes Ros want to jab him from behind again. A thirty-something year-old man had no business being this cute.

He placates himself by pressing the other man a bit more into his side.)

“These things take time!”

“Yes, they do,” Ros says agreeably. “Which is why you should stop pushing yourself so hard to try to get results before her Majesty’s evaluation.”

He feels Alba twitch under his grip. 

“...You noticed?”

“You have bags under your eyes, Researcher,” Ros says flatly, and Alba’s hands immediately fly up to his face in a self-conscious move. 

“Dammit…” Alba mumbles. 

“I’m sure your lab has enough results to survive the evaluation,” Ros says, voice dismissive. “It’s not like this country is particularly strict about that kind of thi-“

“-Professor Oz Baum’s lab is getting decommissioned. He’s fired - and it’s not just him.”

Ros jolts in surprise. “What?”

Alba nods, face set. “Haven’t you heard? The Queen’s finally doing the big overhaul she always wanted to. Cutting down on anything she felt her father invested in for his own personal desires or because of bribery or connections.” He shrugs helplessly. “It’s understandable, we all know how the King was, but… magic is one of those things the King invested in just because he wanted to see it.”

“Ah,” Ros says weakly. 

(Every time. Every time, there was some reason why Alba _had _to throw himself into his work, everything else be damned, even his own well-being.)

Alba continues, “So I have to get results, and fast.”

(But he wasn’t going to give up here.)

“Even so, your evaluation isn’t for another few weeks, right?” Ros points out. “If you collapse before your evaluation, you’re sure to fail. You need to take some breaks.”

“I’m not going to collapse this time-“

“-So I’ll come by later to take you out for lunch!” Ros cuts in cheerily, then dances back before Alba can raise an objection. “I should get back to my patrol now!”

“Hey, wait, Soldier!” Ros can hear Alba sputtering. “I can’t take lunch off today, okay! Don’t come!”

“See you then!”

“_Ros!_”

* * *

True to his word, Ros pops by at lunch. It’s a small lab, with only Alba and his one assistant - Alba’s still a new professor, after all. 

So Ros only has the one guard he needs to get past. 

“Alba-san said I shouldn’t let you through,” Salt says, in between crunching on his bag of chips. He throws another big handful into his mouth as soon as he’s done talking. 

Luckily, it’s not hard to bribe this one paltry guard. 

“I brought lunch for him, but it’s filled with mushrooms, which he hates,” Ros says surreptitiously, raising a clothed package. “If you let me past, you can have it after he refuses it.”

“Done, come right in,” Salt says immediately, stepping back from the doorway. 

“You know I can hear you both, right?!”

“Hear what?” Ros says innocently, stepping into the room. 

Alba is standing a little ways away from them, back turned in front of a counter. Ros waits patiently as the researcher carefully places a test tube back onto a stand, before turning to face them both. 

“Just… give that lunch to Salt,” Alba says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Soldier, I told you that I couldn’t do lunch today, didn’t I?”

As requested, Ros hands Salt the lunch - the chubby man accepting it happily - then asks, “Hey, Salt, has Researcher had any food today?”

“Nope,” Salt answers. “It’s horrifying. You guys should go out. And get some takeout for me on the way back.”

“Both of you… Salt in particular!” Alba points an accusatory finger at his assistant, who just blinks. “Even if you don’t care about magic research, aren’t you worried about losing your job at the very least?!”

“Nah.” Salt shrugs. “Not when you’re the lead researcher.”

“Why not contribute a little yourself?” Alba grumbles, a grown escaping his mouth.

(He looks stressed, _has _looked stressed since the morning, and it all but solidifies Ros’ conviction to drag Alba out.)

“Anyways, Researcher, it’s two versus one.” With a few short strides, Ros has stepped in front of Alba. He takes Alba’s hand into his own in a tight grip, and smiles. “C’mon, let’s go.”

As always, Alba gives in easily enough after his cursory objections. 

“Oh… fine,” grumbles Alba again, and lets himself be led towards the door. “But no more than an hour!”

“Yes, yes,” Ros says impatiently. 

Alba calls behind him right before they slip through the doorway. “Salt! Please do _some _work while I’m gone?”

“I’ll make sure I investigate this lunch very thoroughly!” Salt says, voice serious. Glancing back, Ros sees the man salute with the hand still holding his bag of chips, crumbs spilling out onto the ground as he does. “I’ll write up a whole report too!”

Alba just sighs.

* * *

Ros takes Alba out to a café fairly close by in town, which offered pre-made meals that should be available to eat quickly. 

He could be thoughtful when he wanted to.

(He just didn’t want to most of the time.)

They somehow manage to snag a table for two once they grab their food - sandwiches and wedges for Alba, pasta for Ros - and Alba tucks in ravenously the moment they sit down. 

Ros would mock him for it if he weren’t wanting to encourage the behaviour. 

So instead, he just talks.

“You said you needed to be at your lab early tomorrow, right?”

“Mm?” Alba hums through a mouthful of food. He swallows. “Yeah, by sunrise.”

“Are you going to stay at my place then?” asks Ros. 

Alba lived a fair ways away in a shared townhouse, while Ros lived right by the castle in a small three-storey apartment complex. 

Thankfully his life in the barracks ended once he moved up a couple rungs in the hierarchy - but as a soldier, he was still required to live nearby, and the castle swallowed most of the cost. Alba, who didn’t have that luxury, chose the cheaper living accommodations further away. 

(It always makes for a good excuse to get Alba to come over, so Ros certainly isn’t complaining.)

“Ah, I mean.” Alba coughs and glances to the side. “If you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind,” Ros smiles brightly, and Alba must see something behind it, because the other man immediately reddens. 

“I-I’ll need to go to sleep early, you know,” Alba says quickly, then focuses on his food again, shoving a few potato wedges in his mouth. 

“Of course,” says Ros easily, “I have a meeting that might go overtime, so I could be late anyways. Just let yourself in with your key if you’re off before me.”

“Okay,” Alba mumbles, then pauses. Scowling, he demands- “Why are you criticizing _my _work ethic when _you’re _planning to stay that late at work?”

Because work bored him so much normally, a meeting was novel. 

Because he just didn’t like to see Alba stressed and tired if he wasn’t the one causing it, and he didn't care if that made him a hypocrite. 

(Because _his _work ethic didn’t make him turn down a confession from someone he obviously liked.)

Ros doesn’t say any of that though. Instead, he just says, “_I’ll _get extra vacation days if I stay late,” and leaves it at that. 

“Fine, fine,” grumbles Alba, then in mild curiosity- “What’s the meeting about?”

“Something boring,” Ros says dismissively, “Though luckily, I’ve got an actual reason to go to it now though.”

“That’s good,” Alba says nonchalantly, then returns to his food. 

Ros just smiles, and starts his meal as well.

* * *

“I’d like to begin the annual castle budget meeting,” announces the Queen at her podium, and a good half of the room straightens up in their seats. 

(Ros is not one of them. But neither is the head maid, so he figures he’s okay.)

This annual meeting was always a bore. The Queen gathers in a room with the heads of each major employee group and a couple chosen subordinates, then everyone yells at each other for several hours trying to get more money. 

In theory, the chosen subordinates are supposed to be random, in order to get the opinions of an “average” employee. In practice, Ros has been “randomly chosen” to attend thirteen years and counting, because the King got all starry eyed about Hero Sion’s descendants and glory and fame or whatever, whenever he saw Ros’ bright red eyes. 

The Queen couldn’t care less about Hero Sion though, and Ros is fairly certain she’s long since forgotten their brief acquaintance as children… so he’s not entirely sure why the commander is still bringing him around. 

But for the first time in thirteen years, Ros appreciates the opportunity. 

His goal today wasn’t to get more budget for the military, oh no - his goal was to make sure that the Queen wasn’t planning to cut budget for Alba. And the other researchers, Ros supposed. He didn’t really care about them though. 

It wouldn’t do to lose the best source of amusement he had in his dull job, after all. 

(It wouldn’t do to lose the person he loved, because if Alba lost his job, who knows where he’d go? A university halfway across the country? A far-off nation with better investment into the sciences?

Unlike him, Alba certainly couldn’t care less about staying with Ros. He’d go where the job he wanted was, and that was that.)

So Ros narrows his eyes and listens carefully as the Queen talks. 

“I’d like to implement some major reforms this year,” the Queen says calmly. “If I can be frank - my father wasted the people’s money with anything and everything that took his fancy, and that should be rectified. Late will always be better than never.” A finger starts tapping on the podium. “For example, I’ve discussed this with Alles already, but…” She throws her hands up in the air. “Why is there an entire group of maids dedicated to cleaning a _particular _stone tile in the central courtyard?!”

The room is hushed, until Head Maid Alles, sitting in the front row, stands up and coughs. 

“Like I said before, Hime-ch- I mean, Queen, the King thought cleaning that stone would bring good luck-“

“-And like _I _said, that reason is rejected! If you want budget for more employees, repurpose that group for general cleaning first!” The Queen snaps, and Alles deflates in defeat. They’ve clearly had this argument more than once. 

The list of ridiculous budget expenditures just grows and grows the more the Queen rants, and as it does, so does Ros’ sympathy for her.

(They all knew the King was bad, but he hadn’t expected things to be _this _bad.)

Then finally, she reaches the researchers. 

“Research is key to the development of our country,” the Queen says seriously. “Our scientists have helped develop many improvements to the people’s lives, and I consider that a more than worthy investment.” She closes her eyes. “But… the majority of our research budget currently goes forwards magic research, which has yet to offer a single benefit.”

The head researcher jumps up at that, looking offended, but the Queen silences her with a hand. 

“As you may be aware, I’ve been personally carrying out evaluations of the magic research labs situated in our castle these past few weeks,” the Queen continues, “I’ve currently evaluated five labs, and I’m afraid to say that employees of all five have been fired. Originally, I intended to repurpose the employees for scientific research, if they were willing - but the situation was far worse than I anticipated.”

The Queen explains what she had found in the labs - explains how no research had even been done, that the employees seemed to be lazing around all day or even completely absent. The researchers present go from vaguely mutinous to somewhat embarrassed, the more the Queen describes the terrible work being done. 

Ros thinks of Salt, and winces.

“I am willing to reopen the case of magic research next year, if we can find good talent… but in its current state, I believe we would be best completely cutting its budget for now.”

Wait, what?

He finds himself standing automatically, the sound of whispers rising in the room as he does. 

“What are you doing, soldier?” hisses his commander, but Ros ignores him. 

“Yes, Soldier Ros?” the Queen says politely, turning her gaze towards him. 

Ros swallows down the impolite comments he so desperately wants to make, because this wasn’t that pathetic King he mocked so in the past. This was Hime-chan, the Queen, and she at least has done nothing to show she deserves disrespect. 

“I understand that the labs you evaluated were in terrible condition,” Ros says calmly. “But your Majesty - forgive me, but you’ve yet to evaluate every magic research lab, correct? How can you recommend completely cutting the budget at this point?”

“...You would be correct,” the Queen says after a pause. “Unfortunately, I was not able to schedule every evaluation prior to this meeting. However, I have evaluated the majority of the labs at this point - I believe I’ve seen enough.”

“Do you mean you don’t plan to carry out the remaining evaluations?” Ros presses. 

“No, I do plan to-“

“-Then you plan to fail them regardless of what good work they may be doing?” Ros cuts in, ignoring the muttering that starts up at him interrupting the Queen. “Since you _are _proposing that we cut the magic research budget entirely at this point.” He tilts his head to the side. “Tell me, Queen, was that why you failed all the other labs too?”

He doesn’t really believe that - Hime-chan has always been an honest sort, and the employees of the castle lazy. Ros can readily believe that the labs she evaluated really were that terrible. 

But he wants to make a point, and get people on his side, and it’s working. The researchers look angry, and others at least look contemplative. 

Sadly, his commander isn’t one of them. The commander forces him back down onto his seat with a harsh tug at his arm. 

“Don’t say anything more, _please,_” the commander hisses. “We’ll talk about this later.”

Ros figures he should probably shut up now if he didn’t want to get demoted. He’s done enough anyways, he thinks - and he’s right. 

The head researcher stands up. 

“I propose that the matter of the magic research budget be tabled until _all _the evaluations have been completed,” she says firmly. 

The Queen sighs, but lets the motion pass.

* * *

Ros gets severely chewed out after the meeting ends, but luckily, he gets out of it with only a temporary pay cut. A small price to pay for likely permanently getting out of the “random” selection from now on. 

(A small price to pay to help protect what Alba so loved, even if part of him wants to see it _rot._)

By the time he makes it home, the sun has long since set. 

His front door leads right into the kitchen, and so as soon as he steps inside, he spots the sandwiches sitting on the table. 

Alba tends to make dinner for them when he stays over, as “thanks” for letting him stay. It seems tonight was no different, even if Ros wasn’t around at dinnertime. 

Smiling helplessly, Ros tucks into his late dinner. 

Once he’s satisfied the grumbling in his stomach, he goes straight into getting ready for bed. Brushes his teeth, washes his face, then steps into his room, where as expected, Alba is sleeping soundly on one side of the bed. 

His heart pangs as he steps closer. 

(He shouldn’t.)

He caresses a hand around Alba’s cheek. 

(He really shouldn’t.)

He leans down, and at the last second, presses a kiss against Alba’s forehead instead. 

(He doesn’t.)

Ros starts to lean back, but then Alba mumbles something unintelligible, eyes flicking half-open, and Ros freezes solid. 

“Ah… Ros…” Alba says sleepily, smiling a little. 

“Researcher,” Ros says, voice barely above a whisper.

“Good night…” Alba leans up, just a bit, and pecks a kiss against Ros’ lips. 

He immediately falls back down onto his pillow, completely conked out, leaving Ros standing there - hand still caressing Alba’s cheek - with his face feeling all too warm. 

(This wasn’t fair.)

Ros punches Alba in the stomach as hard as he can, and the other man yelps, immediately jolting awake. 

“What- why-“ Alba asks blearily, eyes barely cracking open. 

“I felt like it!” exclaims Ros. 

“Of course you did...”

The tired look on Alba’s face makes Ros feel a little better. 

(But not by much.)

* * *

Ros sleeps in past sunrise the next morning, so it’s noon by the time he catches up with Alba in his lab.

He comes fully intent to take out his displeasure from the night before, because... he can take “just” being friends with Alba, for his affection to be barely acknowledged, but…

(Alba only being affectionate back when he’s either drunk or half-asleep just hurts.)

But Alba looks grouchy and stressed when Ros steps in, and that in itself assuages the sadistic part of him wanting to make him pay. 

The researcher visibly perking up on spotting Ros - even if he quickly hides it behind a neutral expression - assuages the rest of his desires, at least for a moment. 

So it’s with a long-suffering sigh that Ros says a hello, walks up to Alba’s desk, and asks-

“Do you have any monster ingredients you want?”

“Not even going to ask how the experiment went, huh?” Alba mutters. Papers and books are piled up high in front of him, and he doesn’t seem happy about it. 

So considering Alba’s bad mood, Ros doubted it went well. 

“It went bad,” Salt calls out. 

As he thought. 

“It went… it went _okay, _okay,” Alba insists with a scowl. 

“We didn’t even get a spark! It went terrible!”

“Shut up, Salt,” grumbles Alba. “Anyways, Soldier, you’re taking up a monster extermination quest or something?” 

“Or something,” Ros says vaguely. 

Alba squints up at him, a suspicious look in his eyes. “You aren’t planning anything, are you? Can you _please _leave it to after the evaluation if you are?”

Ros just aims a beatific smile back at the researcher. 

Deflating, Alba slumps onto his desk. 

“Whatever,” he mumbles, “I could use some monster ingredients though, yes. I guess uh… if you could get both Majipanda and Nisepanda parts, that could be helpful.” He props himself back up a little, leaning on a hand. “Aside from that… Fuwalion fur, maybe? Yudechick eggs would be good too.”

“Anything else?”

“That’s all I can think of off the top of my head.” Alba shrugs listlessly. “Anything you can get would be good though - monsters are pure magic, after all.”

“I’ll see what I can find,” Ros says, then asks brightly- “Do you want to come with?”

“_No,_” is the immediate reply, sounding a little traumatized. 

Pity. You let someone get beat up by a Nisepanda _once..._

* * *

When he’s only a little ways out of the lab, he feels a tap on his shoulder. Glancing back, he’s surprised to see Salt - the man must’ve slipped out after him. 

“Hey, Ros-san,” Salt says, and hands him a slip of paper. “These are the ingredients we could use the most, listed by order of priority.”

Blinking, Ros accepts the paper and skims through it. There’s the monster parts that Alba mentioned, but there’s more too, and an explanation of what they could use it for written in neat script under each item. 

“So you _do _do work sometimes,” Ros says, in mild shock. He squints at the page. “What do the numbers to the right mean? They don’t seem to be priority...”

“They’re my projected rating of how delicious they’d be,” Salt replies, giving Ros an enthusiastic thumbs up. “I’m counting on you!”

Ros lets out a snort. Salt would be Salt, he supposes. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he says drily.

* * *

There’s two things Ros likes beating up most when he’s a bad mood - Alba, and monsters. 

Unfortunately, beating up Alba had the tendency of worsening his bad mood in the long run, and the researcher was getting very good at voicing his complaints at the cruel treatment. 

So monsters it was.

Ros likes to joke that Alba is a masochist - half because he really wants it to be true - but lately, he’s been wondering if _he _was the masochist all along. 

Because everything hurts, and yet Ros doesn’t do anything about it. 

It hurts being with Alba when the other man refuses to be with him. It hurts, and it only hurts more when Alba is uncharacteristically affectionate, because then he realizes what he could have, but doesn’t. 

He drags Alba with him, to lunches, to dinners, to dates, to bed, and Alba is always perfectly willing after some half-hearted complaints, but-

Ros wants more. He wants Alba to admit he wants him too, wants Alba to be the one to drag him out more often, wants Alba to pledge he’d put Ros above his work, wants, wants, wants-

His mind is a mindless blur as he slices through the monsters in the wastelands, and it’s exactly what he needs. But when he goes to chop up the carcasses into parts, he remembers what got him out here in the first place, and the misery immediately settles in again. 

And as Ros heads back to town, dragging the sack behind him to drop off in castle storage, he decides-

It’s about time he lets go. 

(If only this were the first time he decided that.)

* * *

It’s been four years and a bit since Ros confessed to Alba, but Ros still remembers the moment all too well. 

Around a year before Alba would get his own lab in the castle, a couple years before either of them would meet Salt. It’s the night after Alba gets his PhD, and they’re sitting together on the floor in Alba’s dingy rental room, just the two of them. Ros brings over some champagne he nicked from his squad leader, and even as Alba laughs at how fancy it is, they both happily chug some glasses down. 

While he’d like to blame being buzzed for his slip of tongue, the truth is he probably would’ve said something either way. He had been staring dopily at Alba all day, the other man so cheerful, his smile all too lovely - his only saving grace had been that Alba, as always, was about as dense as a solid hunk of obsidian. 

In the end, it doesn’t really matter what triggered it. The only thing that matters is that he said it, Alba heard it, and even Alba’s denseness could only do so much against-

“Alba, I love you.”

Alba just smiles awkwardly. “Sorry?”

“I love you,” Ros repeats, placing his glass onto the ground with a clink. “Romantically.”

He tries to meet Alba’s gaze, but the man is steadfastly ignoring him, face stained bright red as Alba pointedly aims his eyes at the ground. 

“Aha, that’s, um.” Alba coughs, “Not funny.”

“It’s not a joke,” says Ros simply, and shuffles closer, takes Alba’s hands in his own. Alba jolts as Ros presses in, pushes their foreheads together and murmurs, “I really love you.”

“Um,” stammers Alba, and Ros swears that he can almost feel the heat coming off of the other man’s cheeks. “Ah. _Um._”

“Alba…” Ros breathes. “What do you think of me?”

“I-I’m, um,” Alba stumbles out. “I’m… really happy. Super happy. I…” His eyes flick down, a soft smile spreading on his face. “I never expected…”

“Then…?” Ros pushes. 

“But, um…” Alba starts, then bites his lip. Pain flashing over his face for a moment, he pulls away, stands up. Reluctantly, Ros lets him, even as he wants to clench tight. 

The blush on his face is still as clear as day, but his expression is dead serious as he says, “I need to rediscover magic.”

What. 

“...That’s nice, Researcher, but that’s not what I asked,” Ros says, voice flat. 

“I-I know, but!” Alba glances away. “I don’t… I can’t date anyone right now. I… look, Soldier… Ros... I’m finally a professor!” His fists clench. “After all this time! If I play my cards right, I might even be able to get my own lab! I just… I can’t waste time.”

Ros stands up, slowly, expression neutral. 

“...Are you going to-“

Ros grinds his heel into Alba’s foot. 

Grimacing in pain, Alba just nods in resignation.

* * *

Ros thought he could work with that. It was obvious, from Alba’s sidestepping of the question, that Alba liked him too. The only obstacle was his work, and Ros figured that was fine. He could wait. 

So he waited, waited until Alba got his own lab, and when nothing changed even after that, he got more proactive. Tried to show him that he could date and work at the same time, that the other man didn’t need to throw himself completely into his research. 

But then the situation just got worse and worse as the years marched on by. Today, Alba has a key to his place (and him a key to Alba’s, granted), they go out regularly, Alba sleeps at Ros’ half the time-

And Alba has never even acknowledged the mere _concept _of them dating, let alone breathe anything along the lines of _I love you too. _

Ros thought he was okay with that. He thought that it was fine, that as long as he knew that Alba hadn’t fallen for anyone else, he was fine with this pseudo-dating situation continuing indefinitely. 

But he thinks he might’ve reached his limit.

* * *

Letting go is easier said than done though. 

It’s hard, when he gets home that night, splattered in blood, and Alba is sitting at the dining table. He’s squinting at a textbook with a scowl on his face. 

It’s especially hard when Alba perks up the moment he notices Ros come in, just like he had that afternoon. 

It’s impossible when Alba says, a soft smile on his face-

“Welcome back, Soldier!” 

...letting go could wait a little longer, Ros supposes. 

“You’re in a good mood,” he mutters, shrugging his scarf off to hang it on a nearby hook. 

“Ah, I mean.” Alba coughs. “...Are you hungry? I can make you something.”

So he won’t even admit he was happy to see him?

It’s no different than ever, but bitterness still wells in Ros’ throat.

It’s nice that at least Alba doesn’t tend to be as guarded and grouchy at home as he is at work, but still-

(Wanting, wanting, wanting…)

“I’m fine,” Ros says curtly. “I had dinner already.”

Alba frowns at that, textbook placed on the table with a light thump. “Did something happen? _You’re _usually in a better mood after you go out hunting monsters.”

“It’s nothing,” says Ros, voice cool, “I’m going to go take a shower.”

He turns, but then there’s a tap-tap-tap of footsteps, and Alba has grabbed at his grimy sleeve with no hesitation. 

“Really?” Alba presses. “I might be busy with the evaluation coming out, but really, if there’s anything I can do to help…”

Alba’s expression is both innocently worried and all too caring, and so it’s a struggle to keep his own face from softening. 

(This was why he had accepted this shitty situation for four years and counting.

This is far the first time he’s decided he’s reached his limit and needs to let go, but every time, Alba does something, reminds him of something, and Ros gives in all over again.

The last time was his birthday. He hadn’t expected Alba to forget it or anything, the man was surprisingly good about that sort of thing, but for all sorts of reasons Ros had decided he was _done _with Alba, and nothing Alba could do on his birthday would change that. 

Then his birthday rolled by, and Alba took an entire day off - which was in itself unbelievable - and made him sweets, a cake, chocolates, cookies…

They were amateur-made and not astoundingly delicious or anything, but they were yummy enough, and Alba making them made up for the rest. But Ros, being Ros, told Alba they sucked. 

At which point Alba laughed and produced a gift card to a bakery in town, saying he expected that. 

And suggested they go together, right then and there. 

How was he supposed to go through with leaving after that?) 

“...I’m fine,” Ros says reluctantly, after a too-long pause. “Just…”

(Tell me you love me.)

Ros lets out a snicker. The sound is forced to his ears, but it’s probably good enough to trick Alba when he’s saying what the researcher expects to hear. “Beating up monsters really isn’t as satisfying as beating up you, Researcher!”

“Wha-“ Alba sputters, “And here I was worrying about you!”

Alba walks off back to the table in a huff. 

Ros just smiles.

* * *

Ros heads straight to their bed after he takes a shower. He lights a lantern on the bedside table, throws a blanket over his legs and opens a book. 

Then he waits. 

It’s not too long until he hears the sound of Alba in the bathroom, and after that, not too long until Alba steps into the bedroom. 

And makes a strangled noise. 

“Ah, Researcher,” Ros says casually, snapping his book closed and placing it to the side. “Finally coming to bed?”

“Soldier, you, ah,” Alba says, voice weak. He swallows visibly. “You aren’t wearing any clothes.”

Ros lets out an exaggerated gasp. “You’re imagining me naked? Pervert. Scum.”

“You _are _naked!”

“How can you say that without seeing what’s under here?” Ros asks. He slides a hand down his chest and towards his legs, pausing as he reaches the edge of the blanket. “I suppose you’ll just have to check.”

Another strangled noise hits his ears, and Ros sees Alba’s eyes flick up and down his body, clear as day. 

He smirks at that. “C’mon, Researcher, stop playing the blushing virgin. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

Alba swallows again, then takes one step forward, two. 

“Maybe, uh,” he says haltingly. He reaches the bed - finally - and after a moment of hesitation, crawls onto the bed, pushes Ros down beneath him. 

(His fingers lace through Ros’ too gently, and it’s almost making _Ros _want to play the blushing virgin.)

Alba leans down, murmurs into his ear- “Maybe just for a bit.”

Then he’s pressing a kiss to Ros’ lips, and-

(If Ros’ legs spread a little wider, well, the only person who needs to know is him.)

* * *

It’s rainy on the day of Alba’s evaluation. It’s not the most auspicious of omens, but Ros has never been the superstitious sort either way. 

It would be fine, or it wouldn’t be. Either way, he’s sure that Alba at least has worked to his utmost of his ability to make his evaluation a success. Not just this past month - this past decade. 

He can’t imagine the Queen not seeing that too. 

Except his commander calls him into the office that morning and asks, surreptitiously, “Your partner has his evaluation today, doesn’t he?”

“My partner?” Ros says politely. 

“That professor. Fleming?” the commander eyes Ros, eyebrow cocked. 

“...Frühling,” Ros corrects, because it’s fairly obvious who he means. 

“Right, him.” the commander nods. “Wanted to know what made one of my best soldiers act out against the Queen, looked into it a little.”

“It won’t happen again,” promises Ros with little sincerity, but the commander just waves a hand dismissively. 

“I’d hope not, but that’s not what I called you in for,” the commander says, “You sure you don’t want to take the day off today to support him? It’s probably going to be a slow day today, and you have the vacation days.”

_It’s a slow day everyday, _Ros thinks to himself, but out loud, he only says, “I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

“Having faith in your partner is always a good thing,” the commander nods solemnly, “Why, _my _wife-“ He must see Ros’ utter disinterest in hearing about his wife for the upteenth time, because he cuts himself off and coughs. “Right, what I mean is, it’s great you have faith, but as soldiers, it’s our duty to consider the worst case scenario.”

“Right…” says Ros sceptically. 

“And I may or may not have heard through the grapevine that the Queen _really _has it out for the magic researchers because the labs she evaluated after the budget meeting were still absolutely terrible,” the commander blurts out. 

It would be fine. Alba was different than those other researchers. 

So Ros just shrugs, looking unconvinced - but then the commander continues. 

“Sometimes you just need to let your partner have a good cry in your arms.” The commander gives Ros another solemn nod. “My wife is the reserved sort, see, and-“

Ros tunes out the rest of the commander’s gushing about his wife in favour of zeroing in that first comment. 

Alba… crying in his arms. 

Researcher… pressed into his chest, sniffling, arms wrapped around him, looking for comfort because for once it wasn’t _Ros _that made him cry-

“I’m going to use a vacation day,” Ros says abruptly, cutting off the commander in the middle of waxing poetic about his wife’s dewy eyes. 

“Oh? Oh yes, go on.” the commander waves him away. 

Ros gives the man a half-hearted salute before heading out the room - and straight to Alba’s lab.

* * *

Alba, to his credit, takes it in stride. Doesn’t even look surprised when Ros peeks in and says cheerfully, “Researcher, let me watch your evaluation!”

“Just sit here,” Alba says, plopping Ros down on a stool in a corner. “And don’t say anything. Please?”

“No promises!” Ros says brightly. 

Alba scowls at that. “Why are you even here anyways?”

“Moral support,” replies Ros, “Feel free to cry in my arms if the Queen fires you.” 

“I will not!” Alba sputters, gesturing behind him towards where Salt seems to be sorting ingredients. “Besides, Salt is right there, Soldier!”

“I don’t mind,” Salt calls back, “Honestly, that’s no worse PDA than usual.”

Alba flushes, then, pointedly ignoring Salt- “It doesn’t matter either way. We _will _pass this evaluation.”

“I’m sure you will,” Ros says, smiling softly, and as expected, Alba just flushes deeper. 

“...Thanks,” mumbles Alba, then whips around. Voice brisk, he shouts, “Salt, c’mon, move faster! We have less than an hour before the Queen comes by!”

* * *

The Queen, to her credit, also takes Ros’ presence in stride. 

She walks in at 11 AM on the dot - clipboard and pen in hand - glances towards Ros, blinks once, then turns back towards Alba and Salt standing in front of her. 

“I’ll be beginning the evaluation now,” she says politely. 

She doesn’t _seem _to be in a bad mood, but Ros supposes that could change at any moment. 

The evaluation itself is rather dull. She examines the lab and hums - asks Alba and Salt about their daily routine and nods. 

Then, after some minutes of quizzing the two researchers on their work, she hooks her pen to her clipboard and asks, “Professor Frühling, you were awarded a laboratory by my father due to your unprecedented success in triggering a magic reaction, correct?”

“Ah, yes,” Alba says, looking nervous, “I found a way of purifying the exit container that resulted in much more consistent generation of a spark - of magic, I mean.”

“I’d like to see this spark,” the Queen says. 

“We can um, do the experiment,” Alba says cautiously, “But even with my purification technique and the improvements I’ve made to the process over the years, I’ve only achieved a probability of approximately 34% for triggering a spark...”

And that was only when using high-quality monster ingredients, but it seems like Alba was wisely keeping that tidbit to himself. 

The Queen just raises an eyebrow. “What is the probability rate with just your initial purification technique?”

“Um.” Alba swallows. “Around 20%.”

When using low-quality ingredients - my my, Alba could be deceptive when he wanted to be. 

“And as far as I am aware, this ‘spark’, cannot yet be used for any practical purpose, correct?” the Queen asks. 

“Correct…” Alba says reluctantly. “It’s too small to provide any energy - I’ve been focusing on consistent generation rather than power output, as I believe the first will lead to the other…”

“So in the three years you’ve had this lab, you’ve only succeeded in somewhat raising the generation rate of this spark,” the Queen says, sounding disappointed. 

“It’s a significant gain,” argues Alba, “Prior to the use of my techniques, magic generation was considered to be purely random, with no real way to improve that - efforts focused on triggering so many reactions at least one _had _to generate a spark. But now, we know that it isn’t random - we simply have yet to find the exact process to consistently generate it.” He gestures wildly. “It’s a matter of trial and error, and we _will _find the solution eventually.”

Of course, there were the theories that this solution required something unique to the Great Calamity Rchimedes - so no one but him could use magic. 

Ros wouldn’t bring that up though. He wasn’t that cruel. 

(And besides, he _knows _those theories are false, even if he can’t articulate how he knows.)

“And how many of these trials have you conducted?” 

“Well, um.” Alba frowns. “We start one to three ‘trials’ a day usually… since it’s been three years, um…”

“Two thousand one hundred forty,” Salt says calmly. 

All eyes in the room focus on Salt. 

“I can show you the lab reports if you’d like - though only for the experiments Alba-san conducted after I joined him,” continues Salt. “The number of experiments Alba-san conducted prior to that is just an estimate, but I believe it’s still fairly accurate based on his research notes.”

“Salt, what? You wrote repor-“ Alba coughs. “I mean, yes, that’s exactly right.”

“I understand your disappointment at the lack of progress, your Majesty,” Salt says, the man acting unusually professional. “Especially compared to the inventions that the science and engineering departments push out on a regular basis. But magic can’t do anything until we discover it - it’s an unfortunate reality of our field of research.”

“...Could you show me one of your reports?” asks the Queen, and Salt gives her a short nod, shuffling off towards the shelves near the back of the room - then swerves to go beside them, to where storage boxes were stacked high. 

He opens a box, retrieves a thin stack of papers, then returns, handing the papers to the Queen. 

“These were just meant for my personal reference - Alba-san has his own research notes, and has published two formal papers about his experiments over the course of the last three years,” Salt explains, “But if you’re interested in our daily efforts, there’s no better reference than my reports.”

Ros can see Alba struggling to hold back his incredulity at Salt’s uncharacteristic competence, and for once, he feels similarly. Luckily, the Queen doesn’t catch on - she just smiles as she flips through the pages. 

“Professor Frühling, you said your method has a 30% chance of success, correct?” she asks. 

“Ah, yes!” 

“I don’t mind waiting,” she says, “Please repeat the experiment until you achieve a successful result.”

They do just that.

* * *

The evaluation ends in success. 

The Queen smiles and tells both Alba and Salt that she hopes they continue their work at the castle - both men bow deeply and express their gratitude. 

Then she turns to Ros, for the first time since she entered the lab. 

“Soldier Ros,” she says mildly, “Since you seem to have some free time, would you mind escorting me out?”

Technically, he wasn’t on the clock - he took a vacation day. If this were the King, he’d probably tell him to fuck off. If this were a different noble, he’d probably tell them he was busy. 

As it is though, he hops off the stool and walks towards the Queen. 

“Sure, let’s go,” he says casually, then at Alba- “Congrats, Researcher - I’ll drop by again in a bit.”

Alba, still looking to be in a blissful daze, just nods. 

The Queen and Ros leave the room, Ros trailing a step behind her. And once the door closes shut behind him-

“It’s been a while, Ros,” the Queen - Hime-chan - says, glancing back. 

“...Yeah,” he says shortly. “I’m surprised you remember me.”

“You and Alles were always the only one to never give me any respect,” Hime-chan says drily, and Ros just shrugs in response.

“I don’t really care about nobility.”

“I know,” she says with a laugh, then smiles. “Do you want to catch up over tea?”

What he really wants is to go back inside the lab and play with Alba, because the researcher being in such a blindly happy state was a rare treat. 

But he supposes, reluctantly, that Alba would still be there when he got back, and-

“I’ll have the cooks prepare some sweets.”

“...Alright.”

* * *

“I never did apologize for what my father tried to do with you, did I?” asks Hime-chan from across the small table. 

They’re in a private sitting room somewhere, an array of sweets piled on a cart placed next to the table. There’s tea too, but Ros cares little for that as he grabs another cookie. 

“There’s nothing for you to apologize for,” Ros says, because it’s the truth. “There was never any Great Calamity for the King to use as a villain, and I sliced through any monster too quick for him to try to fake one as a new Calamity.” He bites the cookie, swallows. “His idiotic aspirations of power and glory behind a new hero never had a chance of success in the first place.”

“Still, I… always felt bad,” Hime-chan says quietly. “And when I decided I was going to try to correct my father’s wrongs this year, I remembered you.” She stares into her cup of tea. “It wasn’t fair for my father to put you in such danger at such a young age, just because you were Hero Sion’s descendant-”

“-Not his descendant,” Ros corrects immediately. 

Hime-chan cuts herself off and blinks. “I always thought you only said that because you wanted to escape my father’s aspirations. I mean, your _eyes…_”

“Red eyes don’t mean I have Hero Sion’s blood.” Ros brushes a hand over his right eye. “Wanting to dismiss that old fogey’s aspirations was part of it, but mostly, ever since I was little, I’ve always been sure that…”

He hesitates. 

“That…?” Hime-chan prods. 

With a sigh, Ros continues, “I’ve always been sure that Hero Sion had no descendants.” He smiles wryly. “Don’t ask me _why _I’m sure.”

Hime-chan looks confused, but in the end, just nods. 

“Regardless,” she says, “I apologize for my father’s treatment of you as a child.”

“Apology accepted, I suppose,” Ros says dismissively.

“Is there anything you’d like as reparation?” asks Hime-chan. 

“Nothing really,” Ros replies, shrugging. “Not since Alba passed his evaluation.”

“I don’t think I would’ve offered keeping a professor employed as reparation either way,” Hime-chan says, voice dry. Then she eyes Ros curiously. “You’re close, then? I did wonder why you spoke up during the meeting… and why you were there during his evaluation.”

“You could say that,” Ros says vaguely, but perhaps his expression goes too soft, because Hime-chan smiles like she’s smelled blood. 

“I _see_,” she says knowingly. 

Ros scowls and grabs himself a cupcake. 

“I suppose it was doubly good that my father gave up on his plans then,” Hime-chan murmurs. She snorts. “You know, if he succeeded in making you a legendary hero like he wanted, he wanted to marry you to me?”

He can’t quite help the look of disgust that rises on his face at _that _little tidbit of knowledge, but luckily, Hime-chan just nods in understanding. 

“I feel the same way,” she says, her eyes going distant. 

A slight blush rises on her face. 

Huh. 

“You’ve got someone you want to marry?” asks Ros, mildly surprised. 

“_What?!_” Hime-chan exclaims, jumping up from her seat, face going fully red. “What makes you say that?! I don’t- there’s no one!”

...Suddenly, Ros recalls Hime-chan’s violent reactions to anything that caused her embarrassment, and immediately decides to back down.

Unlike Alba, _he _wasn’t a masochist. 

“I see,” he says simply. 

“Huh? Oh, uh, yes,” Hime-chan says awkwardly. She settles back down in her seat and coughs, then takes a dainty sip of tea. “Besides, my position being as it is, I can’t afford to marry as I wish.”

“Elope,” suggests Ros, and Hime-chan chokes on her drink. 

She places it back onto its saucer with a clink. 

“E-elope?” Hime-chan says, voice weak. 

“In this... purely hypothetical situation where you had someone you wanted to marry but couldn’t,” Ros says carefully. “That seems to be the obvious solution.”

“Oh, I… see,” Hime-chan says, voice still weak. “Well, I can’t- _wouldn’t _be able to leave my duties, but…” 

She gazes somewhere faraway. “It’s a nice dream, I suppose.”

“Yes,” says Ros agreeably, “A nice dream.”

(And how pitiful. 

Because this dream felt as far away for him as it did for a Queen with a star-crossed romance.)

* * *

When he goes back to the lab after tea, Alba is fast asleep on his desk. 

“He conked out not too long ago,” Salt says quietly, munching on his lunch at a table near the door. “I think the relief knocked him out.”

“Makes sense,” Ros says, equally quietly. “Did you have any experiments planned today?”

“Nothing that can’t wait,” replies Salt, “Feel free to take him home.”

Ros can’t help but smile at the stupid expression on Alba’s face as he sleeps, face smushed against his papers. 

“In a bit,” Ros says, fondness creeping into his voice. 

“Up to you,” Salt says with a snort. “But if you’re going to gaze adoringly at your husband, I’d prefer you do it where I can’t see.”

Salt’s said it before, that joke about Alba being his husband. Ros has never minded it, so he should really just let it go - Salt has no way to know his mood. But right now, right after his chat with Hime-chan-

“We’re not married,” says Ros flatly, smile wipes from his face. 

(And probably never will be.)

He expects Salt to look confused, maybe annoyed.

He doesn’t expect Salt to furrow his brows and ask, “What?”

A beat. 

“...Wait,” says Ros, “You… really thought we were married?”

“You’re _not?!_” Salt hisses. “You never denied it!”

“I thought you were joking!” Ros hisses back. 

Salt just sighs. “I guess that explains why neither of you ever wore your rings…” He shrugs. “Well, I fully expect an invitation to your wedding then.”

“...Technically we’re not dating either.”

“_What?_” exclaims Salt, voice rising, but Ros shushes him quickly. With an apologetic look, Salt lowers his voice again. “What do you mean, technically?”

“Researcher turned me down,” Ros says, a note of bitterness sneaking into his voice. “Because he wanted to focus on work.”

Salt chokes. “Please tell me you’re kidding me.” He peers towards Ros’ face. “Oh no. You really aren’t, are you?”

Ros just scowls. 

“It’s… fine,” he says, voice reluctant. He turns his gaze back towards Alba, still fast asleep. “It’s not like that idiot will ever look at anyone else in that way when he’s such a workaholic.” His scowl deepens. “And even if he won’t admit it, we’ve been as good as dating for years. With Researcher, honestly…” He runs a hand through his hair. “That’s probably the best I’m going to get.”

He glances back at Salt. The man’s expression is unreadable. 

“I see,” Salt says neutrally. 

“Something to say?” 

“No, nothing really to you.” Salt gives Ros a smile, but the soldier still can’t make out the emotion behind it. “Though - I’m sorry you had to deal with this, Ros-san.”

“I could’ve left.” Ros shrugs. “I didn’t. I’m still not.”

“I guess,” says Salt, “Still.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, I suppose,” says Ros. 

They fall into an awkward silence. 

Ros coughs. “I think I’ll go and take Researcher home.” 

And with that, Ros walks towards Alba and slowly pulls out the chair the man is sitting on. In a gentle move, he scoops Alba into his arms. The man stays asleep, head now lolling against his shoulder. 

He heads back. 

“See you later, Salt,” Ros murmurs, keeping his voice low. 

“Yeah, see you,” replies Salt, and Ros frowns.

The man sounds distracted.

* * *

Two days later, Ros gets a knock on his door in the early evening. 

He’s in his apartment alone - Alba hasn’t slept over the past couple days, much to his disappointment. 

(“I shouldn’t be any more of a bother,” Alba had said before fleeing back to his own rental. 

It wasn’t a bother. It so _obviously _wasn’t a bother.

And yet Alba had still left.)

And Ros certainly isn’t expecting anyone. So it’s with a curious expression on his face that he opens the door. 

He blinks. 

“Researcher?” 

“Hi, um, Soldier,” Alba stammers out. He coughs. “Sorry for dropping by after work. You uh, didn’t come by at lunch today, so.”

“I had a training exercise I had to go to,” Ros says by way of explanation. He’s still mildly confused. 

“Of course! I mean- I don’t expect you to always spend lunch with me. That’s- way too conceited. I’m sorry if I came off that way, I mean…”

As Alba babbles on about things that made no sense, Ros’ confusion just rises higher. 

So Ros reaches out to cup Alba’s cheek, and Alba’s mouth immediately slams shut, blush rising on his face. 

“What’s going on?” asks Ros. 

“Ah… I just…” Alba swallows visibly. “Soldi… Ros. Would you, um, like to go out to dinner with me on Friday?”

Ros _stares. _Something was definitely strange, but- the nervous look Alba is giving him, the flush on the man’s face-

It feels genuine, and that’s good enough for him. 

“Of course,” Ros says. He lets his hand fall from Alba’s face. 

“Ah. Awesome!” Alba smiles awkwardly. “It’ll- it’ll be a nice place. I promise.”

He’s not going to tell him where? Odder and odder. 

“Considering it’s you, Researcher, I’m not expecting much,” Ros says with a snort. 

“Wha-“ Alba starts, looking offended, but then he deflates. “I probably deserve that.”

...What?

“Finally decided to accept your mediocrity?” Ros asks mockingly. It’s a paper-thin front to hide his ever-growing confusion, but he can’t help it. 

“Maybe,” Alba says quietly, “But that’s the first step to improving.”

“...Okay?” says Ros, finally letting the confusion bleed into his voice. 

Alba just smiles at him. “And um…” He coughs. “If- only if you didn’t have any plans! But uh, d-do you want to hang out tonight too? Just- um. Reading and stuff maybe?” He glances at the ground. “I- totally get it if you don’t want to. Sorry. I should head back no-“

Before the man can leave, Ros whips his hand out to grip Alba’s tight.

“Come in, Researcher,” Ros says, probably too fondly - but he can’t help it, not with the warm feeling welling in his chest. 

“Ah! Um. Great.” Alba gives Ros a bright smile, and Ros, helpless, returns it.

* * *

“By the way, Researcher,” Ros says later, pressed snug against Alba on the couch. “_How _many times do I have to tell you that you don’t need to knock?”

“Sorry,” Alba says quietly, “I’ll do better.”

And Ros blinks, confused yet again, because Alba sounds like he means it.

* * *

To his surprise, Alba asks him the day before to dress up for dinner, so he wears a nice shirt and his only tie when Alba comes by. 

Despite Alba telling him to dress up, it’s still another surprise that for once in his life, Alba has ditched the lab coat to also wear a reasonably nice dress shirt and tie. 

(When Ros expresses his surprise, Alba pouts. It’s unfairly cute, as always.)

The restaurant Alba takes him to is a high-end, expensive restaurant, and Ros is honestly ridiculously shocked. He can’t recall any birthdays or other celebrations that would warrant going out to a place like this, so Ros turns to Alba and asks, only half-joking- “Are you dying?”

“Wha- I’m not dying!” Alba sputters immediately, much to Ros’ relief. “Do I have to be dying to take you out to a nice place?”

“Yes?”

Alba deflates at the prompt answer.

“I really am scum, huh…” he mumbles under his breath. Ros can only barely make it out. 

“What was that, Researcher?” Ros asks, frowning. 

Alba immediately straightens back up. 

“No-nothing!” he stammers. “Anyways, I promise you, I’m not dying. Let’s just go in?”

“...Okay,” Ros says after a pause, and then they do just that.

* * *

Dinner is delicious. Ros decides to push his confused feelings to the side for the moment and just enjoy the meal with Alba for what it is, and doesn’t regret it. 

Dessert, in his not-so-humble opinion, could’ve been better, but Ros _supposes _that not everyone had his palette. They walk home together after the meal, Alba listening indulgently to his complaints as they do. 

Ros is on cloud nine. If Alba weren’t with him, he might’ve even started humming - though of course, it was because Alba was with him that he wanted to. 

Then they enter the apartment, hanging their coats to the side, head into the living room, and-

“Ros, um, can we talk?”

It’s a bucket of cold water thrown over his head. 

There it was. Of course there was a catch, there was always a catch. 

Ros turns around, smile wiped from his face. 

“What is it, Researcher?”

“Look, um.” Alba flushes and glances to the ground. “I know, all those years ago, I turned you down.”

“...Yeah,” Ros says flatly. 

“But you, uh, you didn’t really give up because of that,” Alba says quietly. “And that was my fault.”

Ros feels an ice-cold grip clench his heart. 

“I hid behind my work, gave you a wishy-washy response, and when you still chased after me, I let you, because well - I wanted it too.” 

Oh no. 

“But- I was selfish,” continues Alba, looking back towards Ros. His face is set. “I wanted to focus on my work, but still have you.”

Oh no, no, no. 

“But that isn’t fair to you at all, and- I’m sorry it took Salt yelling at me for me to realize that.”

Why did Salt have to shove his nose where it didn’t belong? Why didn’t he understand?

“This- this whole pseudo-dating situation, it isn’t right,” Alba says, waving a hand. 

He wanted Alba’s everything, but he was _satisfied _with Alba’s something. Far more satisfied than he’d be with anyone else’s everything. 

“You deserve to be happy,” Alba continues passionately, “You shouldn’t have to settle for someone who doesn’t give you as much as you give them.”

But Alba was nice. Alba was kind. So of course he wouldn’t let that stand. 

“So that’s why I thought things needed to change.”

Of course Alba would bring things to an end. 

“Alba,” Ros manages to choke out, finally, “I don’t _care_, it’s fin-“

Then Alba drops to one knee, and Ros’ brain short-circuits. 

“Ros,” Alba says, gazing up at Ros softly, too softly. Then he coughs and ruffles around in his pockets, mumbling, “Which one was it in- ah, here!”

He gazes back up at Ros, smile bright on his face as he brings up a small, black box that had to be something different than what Ros thought, had to be-

Alba opens the box, revealing two twin silver rings. 

“Ros,” repeats Alba, a light blush rising on his face. “Will you marry me?”

Ros stares blankly at the rings for probably too long. Alba starts fidgeting. 

Then Ros jolts out of his stupor and leans down to pinch Alba’s other arm, the one _not _holding up the rings. 

“Ow!” Alba yelps. “What was that for?”

“I just thought this might be a dream,” Ros says, voice blank. 

“Pinch yourself then!”

“...You’re right,” Ros says slowly. “I should really make sure.”

Ros pinches his own arm and immediately winces at the sharp pain. 

“It’s… not a dream,” Ros says, a smile spreading across his face. 

“Yeah,” mumbles Alba. He lifts the ring box a little higher and coughs. “Do you… accept?”

He has to laugh at that, the warm, bright feeling bubbling up in his chest all too overwhelming. 

“Of course I do.” Ros says, utterly euphoric. “Is there any other answer?” He stretches out a hand. “Go on, put it on.”

“R-right.” Alba carefully places the ring box on the ground, then retrieves one of the rings. Visibly nervous, he leans up a little to slides one of the rings onto Ros’ ring finger. 

“Does it fit?” he asks worriedly. “I had to eyeball the sizing.”

Experimentally, Ros wriggles his fingers, then brings up the ring to eye level. Looking closely, there’s a small red gemstone inlaid in the silver band. 

(He likes it. He really likes it.)

“Um, Soldi- Ros? If it doesn’t fit right or you don’t like it, I can go get it exchanged. Whatever you want. Within reason. I only have so much money. Unless you want to chip in I guess, but-“

“-It’s _fine, _Researcher,” Ros cuts in with a snort. “Calm down.”

“Oh. That’s good.” Alba coughs. “Wait, just fine?”

Ros crouches down, plucks the other ring from the box. 

“It’s wonderful, it’s great, I love it,” Ros says in a monotone. He yanks Alba’s hand towards him. “Now hurry up and let me put yours on you.”

“Ah, okay,” Alba says weakly. 

But there’s a happy smile on the researcher's face as Ros slides the ring on Alba’s finger, and that’s more than enough for him.

* * *

Ros is happily wrapped around Alba on the sofa, engagement rings snug on each of their hands, when Alba mumbles, “I really thought you’d turn me down.”

“...Do you not want to get married?” asks Ros, a jolt of dismay shooting through him. 

“No! I do!” Alba blurts out immediately. He presses back, leaning closer to Ros, and Ros smiles. With a cough, Alba continues, “It’s just… I thought you’d want to, y’know, make me work for it.” He glances to the side. “Salt said the most important thing was to show that I was serious right away, then I could work on building up trust after that…”

“Salt comes up with some good ideas.” Ros flashes Alba a smirk. “Making you work for it _does _sound lovely...”

“Urk.” 

“But no.” Ros moves his hand down into Alba’s lap, lays it over Alba’s in a gentle hold. “Did you both really think I’d say no when you were kneeling there, asking to be _mine_?”

Alba mumbles something unintelligible. 

“What was that?” asks Ros. 

Face reddening, Alba repeats himself, louder this time. “I-I was asking you to be mine too.”

“I was already yours either way,” is Ros’ only answer, and he watches in satisfaction as Alba reddens deeper. 

With a smile, he squeezes his arms tighter around the other man. “And besides, Researcher - I’m not expecting you to change.”

“Huh?” Alba blinks at him. 

“I fully expect you to be an idiotic workaholic,” says Ros, letting a exaggerated, long-suffering sigh escape his mouth. “I fully expect you to be a grumpy old man at the ripe old age of thirty-one, and I fully expect you to forget to eat, and sleep, and drink.”

“Wha- I won’t be that bad!” objects Alba. “I wasn’t _that _bad either!”

“You _are _that bad,” Ros says flatly, then smiles. “But it’s fine.” He presses a quick kiss against Alba’s hair. “Even as stupidly obsessed with your work as you are, you still take the time _sometimes_ to spend with me. If we’re married…” He closes his hand over Alba’s. “You’ll at least live with me, eat with me - you won’t leave, thinking you’re a bother.” He feels his face warming a little too. “That’s more than I ever expected to have.”

Alba is silent at that for some moments, expression conflicted. 

Then he shakes his head. “That’s- not good enough.”

“What?”

“It’s not good enough!” exclaims Alba. He shuffles in Ros’ lap, turns so he’s facing Ros, hands up to press the soldier against the couch. 

And Ros stares, because he hasn’t seen this sort of stubborn look on Alba’s face for a while. 

“What isn’t good enough?” asks Ros in confusion. 

“That! What you want from me!” Alba snaps. “I’m- I’m going to be better. I promise. I don’t care if you’re happy right now, or with just a little more, I want to make you even happier than that. I-“ He swallows. “I do love research. It’s hard for me to imagine ever putting anything or anyone above it, but-“ 

Alba leans in then, eyes flicking closed, and Ros’ eyes fall shut too at the feeling of lips brushing against his own. 

The other man leans back after a moment, face set. “At the very least, I’m going to try. Because Ros…” 

He smiles, bright and cheery, and says, “I love you just as much.”

...Maybe Salt had been right to step in, out of pity or whatever had motivated the man. 

Because Alba has just told Ros that he loves him as much as his _work_, which was utterly nonsensical. If an angry wife had gotten _that _as an answer to her question, _Which is more important to you, dear? Me or your work?_, she’d be filing divorce papers immediately. 

But that one ridiculous statement makes Ros deliriously happy. 

He opens his mouth to mock Alba, to laugh at the man thinking a comparison to his work was in any way romantic, but the only thing that comes out is a quiet-

“I’m holding you to that, Researcher.”

“You won’t need to,” Alba says firmly. 

(Ros is starting to believe him.)

* * *

“Alba-san said I shouldn’t let you through,” Salt says, standing in the doorway to Alba’s lab. He crunches on a chip. “Also, he told me to tell you he ate lunch already, like he said he would.”

“I just want to see my fiancé’s face - is that so much to ask?” Ros laments, voice dramatic. He clutches at his chest. “It’s been ages since I’ve even caught sight of him.”

“Understandable, come right in,” Salt says immediately, stepping back from the doorway. 

“Ros, you _literally _saw me this morning. We _live together._”

“Do we?” Ros says innocently, stepping into the room.

Alba is leaning against a counter as Ros comes in, the look on the researcher’s face exasperated. 

“I don’t even know why I bother to asking you to keep people out, Salt,” he says, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Because you don’t actually want to keep people out?” Salt suggests, settling down at a table in front of an unwrapped lunch - it looks like he had been in the middle of eating. 

“Shut up,” Alba grumbles. 

“I’ll be quiet,” Ros says with a winning smile. He heads to the same table as Salt, drawing back a chair a little ways from the assistant. “The deadline for that journal publication is coming up, right?”

“Yeah,” Alba says with a stressed sigh. “Once it’s over with, I’ll have some free time again, I promise.”

“He says that, but we all know it’ll be one thing after another,” says Salt mildly. 

“Maybe I’d have more free time if a certain somebody _helped some..._” 

“Maybe that somebody will help after second lunch,” Salt says, unphased. 

Alba just rolls his eyes. 

“I will say that I have already submitted my vacation days for right after the deadline,” he says, turning back towards the counter. He picks up a test tube and hums. 

“You _have?_” asks Salt, sounding incredulous. 

“He’s introducing me to his parents before the wedding,” Ros explains, flashing a grin. 

“Ah,” Salt says with a matching grin. “Good to meet the Frühlings before you become one.”

“Yes, I’m also hoping that Researcher has _some _interesting family members,” says Ros with an exaggerated sigh. “Currently, with him as the only Frühling I know, it’s going to be quite embarrassing for me to walk around as Ros Frühling…”

Salt nods in mock understanding. 

“You don’t have to marry me if it embarasses you that much,” grouches Alba, back still turned. 

“Don’t pout, Researcher.”

“I’m not pouting!” sputters Alba, “You can’t see my face anyways!”

“Mmhm,” Ros says, injecting his best tone of skepticism into the sound. 

He leans against his hand and smiles as Alba starts grumbling under his breath, clinking test tubes down with a little more force than strictly necessary. 

They’re not married yet. 

Alba is still a workaholic, despite his genuine efforts to improve. 

But Ros is happy. 

(Happy to the core, even the part of him that still hates most researchers on sight.)

And he can’t see that changing anytime soon. 

**Author's Note:**

> this was almost done for a couple days, but then the new F5 chapter dropped and I swore and needed to change some things to make things canon compliant again.
> 
> anyways I finally got albatrosses married and I am happy. thank you for reading through til the end, I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> hit us up at the [senyuu discord](https://discord.gg/EPxGygy) if you'd like!


End file.
